


Charles and Charlotte Finley Proudly Present...

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Banter, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Porn Battle, Possible Romance, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Fi are forced to take their roles as Charles and Charlotte Finley several step further than they thought they would when a client's relative develops voyeuristic intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charles and Charlotte Finley Proudly Present...

Fiona sprawled out on the king-sized Louis the XVIIth bed, rustling the damask covers as she started reading the issue of Cosmo she’d brought with her to the Castlebeck Hunting Lodge.

So far, it was a deceptively easy case. Their client was a rich businessman who had hired them to keep watch over his eighty-year old grandmother. The job actually forced her to keep an eye on her apparently deceitful great grandnephew during her birthday party. The benefits involved a weekend stay at the woman’s villa, plenty of down-time and free room and board. Michael and Jesse were otherwise entangled (likely with one another, Fiona thought archly), so she and Sam had gone alone to investigate the situation.

There was a downside to that, naturally, and it made itself known by whistling ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ while using their private toilet. After running the taps, Sam strolled in with a towel wrapped around his neck, his thick legs encased in a pair of pajama pants. “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

Fi rolled her eyes and flipped to the next page. “Did you enjoy your trip, Sam?” she rolled over and plucked the remote control from bedside table.

“Yeah, it was the only peace and quiet I’ve had all day.” He sat down at the edge of the bed and yawned, stretching his legs. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll kick off early.”

She clutched a remote “You’ll let me watch Melrose Place without a running commentary? You’re a prince, Sam.” Fiona turned on the set and had turned around to get herself a glass of water when Sam unexpectedly tackled her to the mattress.

Fi followed her instincts and socked him right in the nose, and his response was to latch onto her lips and fake a passionate kiss. She wriggled beneath him and tried to slam her knee into Sam’s groin, but he lightly pinned her to the mattress and ripped his lips away from hers. “Aww, Charlie, kiss me again, baby!” he ducked his head down and hissed in her ear, “someone’s seen too many episodes of Scooby Doo.”

“What the hell…” Fi sputtered.

Sam whispered his news while kissing her neck. “The painting over the bed had a woman with gray eyes in it. Now it has brown eyes.”

Fi stared up at Sam, recalling that only one of their clients’ relatives had brown eyes. “Little Bob’s a peeping tom?”

“And a world-class sociopath. But now we’ve got to deal with the peeping tom part.” Sam began to rock against Fi, running his hands over her sides.

Fi screwed up her sense of courage and tentatively nibbled Sam’neck. It felt surprisingly good under her tongue, musky-sweet. Still, she put up a fight. “If you so much as touch me where I don’t want you to, Sam…”

“Now’s the wrong time to ask me to keep my hands to myself,” he panted, and Fi stuck her tongue in his ear, causing Sam to yell, “OHH Charlie! Damn, honey, you’re good with that tongue!”

“Charlie?” she complained, running her fingers through his hair.

“Charlotte would prefer Charlie,” Sam insisted. “She was a party girl, right?”

She plastered kisses across Sam’s brow, kissing his ear lobes. “A party girl with a conscious. She married a man twice her age, that’s practically charity work.”

Sam nipped her neck, and she let out a grunt. Her own reaction gave Fiona pause; Sam did have his moments, was a good friend and charming in his macho beer-swilling way, and had an unsurprisingly skillful mouth, but Fi couldn’t understand why her heart had suddenly begun to race. She rained kisses all over his nose, cheeks, lips, and chin, and Sam dotted her while pretending to grope her breast. They rolled across the mattress, flailing, and she reached for the waistband of his pajama pants and yanked at the elastic. Sam’s expression turned hysterically animated, and she couldn’t tell if he approved of her play-acting or her . “Someone’s hot for Chuckie,” Sam bellowed, then whispered, “pull up your teeshirt.”

“Are you insane?” she asked.

“If we don’t convince him we’re doing the horizontal pogo stick, he’s gonna tell our target we’re not really married. We lose her faith and we lose the ability to protect her.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “I won’t do anything to or for you unless you tell me flat out to do it. Are you game, Fi?”

She hesitated for a minute, then saw the logic in Sam’s request and pulled her shirt up. Sam squeezed her for her remained a perfect gentleman, stroking her belly, and then, to her utter surprise, he grabbed her by the chin and gave her a firm kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, throughout which they stared at one another in total disbelief, Fi’s tongue swept into Sam’s mouth and he gave into the sensation, groaning as she wrapped her tongue around his. Sam responded by grabbing her thigh and yanking down his pajama pants with his free hands.

“You ready, Charlie?” he asked, poised over her.

This was fun, to Fi’s surprise. “Oh God, TAKE me, Chucke!”

“Chuckie?” Sam whispered, as he mimed penetration and she mimed ecstatic pleasure at his ‘entrance’.

“Is baby better?”

“Yeah, but we’ll work with Chuckie.” Hooking one leg over his left shoulder, Sam braced himself on the mattress and let out a moan, leaving little space between her body and his. He kissed her lips and forehead and then, with a series of humping motions, Sam began working against her, inadvertently dry humping the crotch of her panties. Before she could be insulted for lying there like a dead fish, Fi began to wriggle in response, rocking up into his mock thrusts.

His teeth dug into her shoulder. “Cool it! You’re giving me blue balls.”

“I didn’t know you cared, Sam,” Fi cooed, and, of course, didn’t stop the motion.

“Right now I care too much,” Sam grumbled, but Fi ignored it, trying to keep rhythm with his hips. It’s like a complicated memory game with him, and she couldn’t remember the proper order and tried to invent one of her own. Sam followed along with a groan, his face buried in her neck.

After a good ten minutes of that, Sam arched his back. “Oh God, baby, almost there!” he called out theatrically, bending Fi into an even tighter bow as his hips slammed painfully into her ass. She glared at him and Sam laughed. She responded with several high-pitched cries, wrapping her fingers a tad too tightly in Sam’s hair. He responded by shaking the bed with his own thrusts. Then, at last, he let out a theatrical “ARGH!” followed by several low, deep moans, his hips jerking against hers several more times before dropping to lie still upon her.

As Sam lay panting above her, Fiona realized three things: all of that dry humping had made her wet, Sam had a hard-on, and the remote control was biting her bum. She focused on playing the loving wife to avoid considering the implications, rubbing his back and cooing in his ear.

He milked it for a few minutes, until she firmly pushed him away and onto his back, at what point she retrieved the control from beneath her.

“Let me get you something to drink, baby,” Sam schmoozed, climbing out of bed and headed to the mini fridge. Cleverly, he used the chrome on the handle to see if the portrait’s peephole had been fixed. He returned with “I don’t think he’s there anymore, Fi.” He glanced down into her eyes. He recognized the arousal in her expression, but persisted in ignoring it. “What?”

“Take your pants off,” she demanded, yanking on the elastic hemline again.

“You’re joking, right?” Sam let out a mock-laugh. “If you don’t start laughing this is going to get really awkward.”

“If you don’t take off your pants,” she said, pulling the teeshirt entirely off, “I’ll tear them from you.” She shook her head as he gaped at her. “Grow up, Sam. We’re two adults who need to take care of a problem.”

“You have a problem?” Sam asked.

Fi pulled the elastic tie from her hair and eyed Sam’s hard-on. “An itch that only you can scratch.”

A drity gleam shone in his eyes as he stripped off his pajama bottoms. “Is it big enough to reach it?” he asked innocently.

Fi knew exactly how big ‘it’ was from their dry humping session, but she hadn’t been entirely prepared for the thickness of Sam’s cock. He was so evidently proud of himself that she tossed the remote off the bed. “We won’t find out if we don’t try. Luckily, Melrose is a repeat. Aren’t you a lucky boy?”

He smirked. “Luck of the Irish,” he declared, pulling her into his arms. “Gonna let me pluck your four-leaf clover?”

She moaned at the horrible joke and pulled him back onto the bed with her.

They kissed quietly, tenderly, a warm-up that lasted far too long for Fiona’s taste. Eventually she threaded her fingers through Sam’s hair and pushed him away from her mouth, aiming his toward her neck, which he began to suck on. His hands found her already-stimulated nipples and got to work stroking them, palming her breasts with an eager expertise that made her groan. She explored his thick torso with her own clever hands, pausing to tweak his flat, pale brown nipples, then move up on the headboard to give his mouth better purchase and place hers on his chest. She drew the small bud of his nipple into her mouth and Sam grunted. He was trying to seduce her slowly, but Fi didn’t want it this way.

Before she could protest, Sam pinched her nipples and rolled them between his fingers before kissing his way down her collarbone. “Did I tell you Chuck’s backstory? How he seduced Charlotte for the first time?” While waiting for an answer, he kissed her nipples, then gave the left one a hard suck.

She couldn’t believe he was trying to tell her a bleeding story now. “No.”

Sam’s hand circled her belly before sliding down to the crotch of her panties, stroking against it with his knuckles. “It was at Chuck’s country club on Charlotte’s twenty-fifth birthday. Her father threw her a party and stocked it with those fancy snooty friends of his. Chuck was the only one who wasn’t an investment banker or a lawyer – he was a college friend of his – a wild guy. She knew right away that he was different.” Sam’s hand journeyed beneath Fiona’s panties and started petting over the lips, playing with the sparse hair between her legs. “He noticed she was bored as hell by the rest of them, so Chuck invited her for a walk down to the stables. His Morgan thoroughbred had just given birth to a new foal and he’d promised her a look at it.”

“How very James Herriot,” Fi remarked, trying to keep her voice even.

“Am I better than a re-run?” He dipped his fingers into her sex and drew some of the wetness she’d

She took a shaky breath. “I need another commercial break to decide.” And then she reached for his cock and took it in hand.

Sam continued, undaunted, gently brushing against her clit and, as he spoke, his stimulation became more and more direct, her arousal growing stronger and stronger. “On their way back to the house, they stopped to look at the night sky. It was a full moon, and the stars were heavy and low. He looked at her and said, ‘Charlie, if I could give you anything in the world right now, what would you ask for?” He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “what do you think Charlotte said?”

Fiona shivered, her arousal building too rapidly to keep track of the conversation. “A suit of diamonds,” she said, and Sam pinched her clit, which pulsed in violent response.

“She said ‘your love.’ And he said he’d give it to her. In fact, he offered to seal the deal, right there on the golf course of her father’s country club. Defying him turned her on hard and fast; they had a roll in the green, between the fifth and sixth hole.” He began to masturbate her more rapidly, moving in concert with the rapidity of her breathing. Sam’s voice was an insinuative whisper. “Do you want me to fuck you on the grass tomorrow, Fi? To pull my tux open and yank that dress up to your waist and pump you right there, where all of the Penderghasts can see it? Roll you on your belly and fuck you from behind while we watch the sun rise?” Fi groaned and twisted against Sam’s hand. “Maybe you want to ride me on the family couch, around Missus Penderghast’s prized antiques. I can see you with your legs spread, your knees around my hips and your back arched, taking my cock all the way in with only your heels on.” He rubbed her clit until Fi bucked into his hand, screaming, a hard orgasm overtaking her sense. He waited for her to recover and kissed her neck. “Or do you want to ride me now?” She squeezed his cock until he gasped. “Good answer,” Sam choked throatily, and obediently rolled onto his back.

Temporarily relieved of her lust, Fi brushed her hair out of her eyes and crawled up to Sam, grinning devilishly. “I thought Charlotte and Charles met at a yacht club,” Fi said, priming him with a few more strokes, then settling back on her heels and taking the tip of his cock into her dripping pussy.

Suddenly, Sam was the one who could barely think. “Maybe. He took her out on his yacht and spooned with her in the sun while they drank champagne.” His head fell back to the bed as Fi suddenly speared herself on his cock, sliding him home easily. Then a loud thud sounded from behind the headboard and they both jumped. “Sounds like is rosy palm and her seven daughters are back,” Sam whispered, clutching Fi’s hips. “Wanna give them a good show?”

She bobbed her head, then swiveled her hips. “How about round two, Chuckie?”

“If you can keep up with me, Charlie.” He cupped her buttocks in his open palms and slapped them. Fi clutched him with her vaginal muscles, refusing to let him control this. She swiveled around, feeling the tip of his cock caress the furthest reaches of her sex. All of that thickness she had admired filled her comfortably full. “So hard,” she groaned, “so warm.” She gave him another squeeze before rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic motion. Sam groaned, rocked upward into her, swiveling back into her, trying to find her g-spot. Fi pressed upon him harder, reaching down to rub her clit, only to have Sam shove her fingers away to do the job itself. “Oh, I love you,” she groaned.

“Always loved you,” he growled, pacing himself, his features hardening into a mask of passion. “From the first time I saw you in that black dress.”

“At the country club?” She pushed back her hair and used his chest as a ballast, turning their slow canter into a rougher ride.

“The loft,” he mouthed. They paused, started into each other’s eyes. She shook her head, stayed in character.

“I remember the stars. They were so beautiful. And you showed me everything that night. You protected me.” Sam was protecting her now. Her emotions mixed and lingered, confused, within Fi’s heart – bending over Sam, she kissed him hard. He stared into her eyes as she resumed her ride, faster this time, harder, his fingers on her clit the entire time. “Help me,” she said. “Come with me.” But she came first, Sam’s persistent rubbing and his determination not to lose it before she did winning out. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips, his chest and face. “Come on, please, please…” and squeezed him with her sex.

Sam gasped, let out a growl, and came with a shout, his heels digging into the mattress and the force of his hips bouncing Fi up from the mattress, she felt a sense of joy she’d never before experienced with a man. Sam dragged her down onto his chest, where she found herself coddled. Damn their little voyeuristic friend; they were together, at one, and even if he was getting off on their passion they had this moment to themselves.

“Since the loft?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I couldn’t make a move on you while Mike was straight. I knew how badly you had it for each other.”

“That’s a fine thing to do! Never tell me. What if Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Jesse?”

“It didn’t happen, so you can relax.” She sighed and rested on his chest. After a long pause, Sam spoke again. “How do you feel about giving me a season pass?”

She smiled into his chest. “I’ll need a few re-runs to decide.”

Sam grinned. “Charles and I can wait. We’re very patient men.” He then kissed her fingers and pulled the blanket up over them.

Fi lay still beside Sam, her emotions still confused. For someone so self-possessed, she came to a stunning realization before falling asleep.

For just one moment, she wished she was Charlotte Finley.


End file.
